You Break it, You buy it
by Locke2
Summary: In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love


DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN CRUEL INTENTIONS OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT!!!!!  
  
Man's love is of man's life a part; it is a woman's whole existence. In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love  
  
--Lord Byron  
  
I don't know how long I stayed in the fetal position after Sebastian left. It could have been days or just a few short hours but I don't remember anything about it, not the soft touch of the satiny sheets on my cheek or even the wet trickle of tears. But I knew they must have been there because when I finally woke from my stupor I was curled up on my bed and my eyes were sealed shut by the dried salty tears.  
  
I had been so sure of where I stood on the pre-marital sex issue but that was before him. I knew as soon as he'd touched my hand that day at his Aunt's house that this man was dangerous. I had known that but his eyes, his skin and that half-smirk had completely undone me.  
  
And I, sweet virginal daughter of a well respected man, had thrown caution and all my morals out the window. I had given my most precious possession to someone who didn't understand it's value and I didn't even regret it because despite it all I still loved Sebastian.  
  
And it wasn't as if I hadn't been warned or fully aware of the likely consequences, I knew that if I let him make love to me I was running a high risk of heart break. But in those few strange moments, the first in my room at his aunt's mansion when I had offered myself to him or when we'd made love it hadn't mattered.  
  
He was unfathomable, I thought, the things he did weren't the things you would expect from someone who was just toying with you. A person acting on just a bet wouldn't normally refuse what they wanted from you or shake and cry when they told you that they had been lying to you. And they wouldn't laugh with you, would they?  
  
I got up, washed my face, changed into a long shirt (I couldn't bare the sight of the blue pants/shirt set ones I used to love so much) but even as I crawled between the sheets of the carefully made bed, vowing never to think of him again my mind kept going over scenes of our passion.  
  
I replayed those moments over and over again until they wove into a sort of mental tapestry so vivid I could almost feel him inside of me, the silky touch of his hands and the wet and delightful feeling of his warm mouth against my bare flesh.  
  
Well if I couldn't keep my thoughts from him at least I could vow never to speak or write his name. And with that in mind I slipped from my haven of bed sheets and crept to the drawers. I withdrew the silky blue shirt he had been wearing the first time we made love. I ran my finger tips over the material savoring the silky feel.  
  
He had given it to me later and I had always thought I would cherish it. But even seeing it now made my eyes sting and well up with still more tears. I wanted to destroy it. If I had been in a movie I would have burned it but I didn't have a fire and that seemed to melodramatic.  
  
So I was just about to throw it out my window and let the world have it when I brought it a little to close to my face and I caught the smell still irradiating from it. The shirt still smelled of Sebastian, expensive cologne, a tiny hint of sweat and a musky odor that was entirely his.  
  
I sunk to the thick carpet tears splashing over onto the blue silk and I knew right then that I had been beaten. I would never be rid of him and as I thought of that my stomach rebelled and vomit and bile filled my mouth, salty-sweet and coersive.  
  
I made it to the bathroom and purged myself of everything I had eaten in the past twelve hours but even after I brushed my teeth and washed my face I felt unclean. I took a shower and scrubbed every inch of my skin till it was red but and steam cloaked the girl in the mirror but I could still feel his slender fingers trailing over my skin.  
  
As if they had a mind and will of their own my fingers reached up to the foggy mirrior and drew our initials surrounded a heart in the condensation. I stared at it for a few moments before hastily wipping it away with the palm of my hand, resolving not to care.  
  
Sebastian Valmont could keep my heart, it was broken anyway.  
  
AN: Please tell me what you think, just an idea I had, maybe I'll do more if you guys like it enough 


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